[center][color=gold] Garrett [/color][/center]
When one of his bunk mates entered the tent Garrett stood up, but the man just nodded at him, clearly he didn't wish to be bothered. Poor guy must be car sick. Some people don't do good on bumpy vehicles rolling through dense jungle humidity.  But he did say a. "Hello. I'm  Garrett, heading to the range, have a good one." It was a quick barrage of words, and then a half wave thrown over his shoulder as he shoved open the tent flap, and went back out into the humidity. 

In order to keep himself tip top, he did a quick jog to the firing range. Kicking up little puffs of dust as he went. Passing other campers, and giving them a half wave as he passed by. In a camp full of cutthroat killers, it does help to be the one who was polite to the others. As others were scattering to their tents he made sure to file down their faces for later. They'd either be potential allies, or bitter rivals as inevitably the camp instructors would pit them against each other. It was a common tactic of training schools to pit groups against one another. As he passed, he was trying to determine who was going to make the cut, and who would end up a wash out early. But they weren't his problem yet. 

When he finally made it to the range, and inspected it. He couldn't help but chuckle, some things no matter where you went never changed. And firing ranges were one of those things. You could be in South Africa, The United States, or some jungle camp for hardened killers, to be turned into mercenaries. And it'd still be the same. He walked over to admire the wide selection of weaponry but he settled on just two. The M16A4, and the classic Kalashnikov. Most modern military's base their platforms on both weapons so practice with either could possibly be with either of these weapons. After getting a few extra mags of 5.56, and 7.62 respectively he hit the range, starting with the 25, to 50, to 100, then to 300 meter targets.  Hitting his targets with accuracy with single fire, and burst fire. Both weapons were smooth, and he could see why they were used so often. But it didn't compare to his standard weapon of use back home. The camp was soon filled with the rapport of his gunfire, as he practiced his day away.